Remember Everything
by TricksterGabe
Summary: It's about Dean and about how he says to everybody around him that he never really remembers, not hell, not before the fire, not anything, well, he remembers everything. Warning for Destiel and the author is a sadist.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N.  
My second SPN fic.  
It's about Dean and about how he says to everybody around him that he never really remembers, not hell, not before the fire, not anything, well, he remembers everything.  
WARNING: There will be Destiel, feels and so much angst. I'm a sadistic asshole. The spoilers will end at s11 since I refuse to watch it unless out angel returns, I love Cas too much. (And I don't want to poison my PC with illegal streaming).  
Updates will be weird since I need to finish my two major Teen Wolf fics before I leave that fandom to rejoin this awesome one.**

Chapter one.  
Remember everything.

 _Oh, dear mother, I love you  
I'm sorry, I wasn't good enough  
Dear father, forgive me  
'Cause in your eyes, I just never added up  
In my heart I know I failed you, but you left me here alone._

He knows what he told people. What he told Sam, Bobby and everyone else. He knows that lying to them isn't making things better but he can't stand the pitting glances they throw at him whenever they think he's not looking because damn it, he's not blind.

He remembers when he told his baby brother that he didn't remember much of hell, only the screams and the darkness. Well, it was not really a lie, but hell wasn't only that, it was everything else too. In a way it reminded him of Purgatory, in the way that it changed you.

He told him few things about Purgatory because he knew his brother wouldn't approve of the things he had done there, the things he had done to survive.

Hell made you a demon. Purgatory made you a survivor.

He doesn't remember for a long time after the hell hounds had ripped into his body, adding his own screams to Sam's as they tore his apart and took him to hell.

But after that… well, he wished he didn't remember a fucking thing.

He remembered his first day on the rack by one Alastair. He had never known just how much pressure the human body could endure before it broke, before he met the demon.

The demon had carved into his skin, slowly and carefully, almost like he was painting on a canvas, a huge grin on his ugly ass face - and in a morbid way he'd been doing just that. To him Dean had been nothing else than another soul, deeming himself to suffer for eternity just so someone else could live happy and carefree.

He remembered the way the wicked knife he had chosen from a metal table not too long from him, felt when it was lead around his chest and yanked down his stomach and then sinking deep into his body and he could feel his the life was draining from him and yet… Alastair was only getting started.

He remembered how the only thing in his head was his baby brother, his Sammy and not the knife carving into his skin, making his blood run like a river that never ended.

And in a way it didn't. Hell was never ending and it was something that had taken him way too long to realize. This was the place where the thing that had killed their mother came from, the stuff nightmares were made of came from here. Where every creature they had ever hunted had come from. And it made it so much worse, not because he was in hell, because he had known he was going to end up there sooner rather than later but the fact that at some point, if he broke, if he said the golden yes to Alastair instead of telling him to shove it where the sun didn't shine, then he would become the very things that they had spent their entire lives hunting and he just couldn't do that to Sam.

He hadn't forgotten the conversation he had had with Bobby after Ellen had settled in. he knew that if he hadn't been like a son to the old man, Bobby would have hit him a lot harder than he had done.

As it had been, Bobby had done nothing else than yell about how stupid he could have been, about had he even thought about how Sam would react to know that his older brother had sold his soul just so that he could liv?

He had, maybe a little too much when he thought back on it now. He had cared for little else than seeing his brother strong and standing again. It was when he had sealed the deal that the dread had set in, that he realized that he had just doomed himself to hell in less than a year.

But he couldn't change the past, not even if he had wanted to because something good had actually come out of it.

Cas came out of it. Stupid pretty boy angel in a trench coat and a soldier of heaven.

Now when he thought about it, there wasn't that big difference from himself and the angel. They had both been raised to be a soldier, growing up in a war. Had both been blind in their faith to their fathers until the moment when they discovered that the world didn't have to be black and white, painful and miserable.

No, what he remembered most of the angel was when he dragged him out of hell, the smell of burning feathers and high pitched screams, the darkness the had been all around them, reaching out for them and trying to halt their escape, along with the smell of too much sulfur had meant nothing to him, because for the first time since he was four years old, Dean Winchester had felt safe.

He also remembered the feeling of utter betrayal when he didn't wake up feeling the same way, but was instead trapped in a wooden coffin, six feet under and unable to breathe.

He tried to forget it, forget the feeling he got and how he had felt back at the store when the loud piercing sound had come, shattering all the windows and blowing up the TV. It had hurt sure, but just for a very short amount of time, he had felt safe again, like there was something with that sound that was just…right.

It was just that being near the angel reminded him of his mother, the feeling of safety and happiness, two things that he hadn't felt in what he knew and believed to be years.

And he hated it, hated that it reminded him of something that he would never regain. He would never get his mother back. He would never see her smile or hear her laughter again, never again would he feel the way her hand had stroked his half long hair just before she kissed his goodnight every night or how she made the best pie in the world, according to him. His father had in a way died in that fire too, cause the man that had carried him and Sammy out on the road had been different, from the look in his eyes to the way he had walked and talked.

John would never take him out to play baseball again or let him watch his fix the impala and tell him how the different parts worked.

He would never do any of those things again because for all things, John Winchester had died too.

But Cas, for all the stoic personal, cold soldier he had once been, saw right through him. When no one else was looking at them or one of the rare times where they had been alone with each other, the angel had sent him one of those glances, the kind that reminded him of better times, of not going to bed hungry, of having a home to come back to everyday and not just a random motel room.

The kind of glances that said the angel knew everything that could be known about him and he was still here, he had not left Dean to rot in hell and the most amazing thing was, he was still here, right by his side with a wicked smile on his face.

The angel never acted on the things that Dean saw in his eyes, he was merely there, like a rock in the ocean that was his life, the only steady thing.

But only for so long.

For what had started with hell, ended… ended so differently from what he had expected.

 **A/N.  
Just a teaser, tell me if you want more. This chapter was chaos, sorry. If people want to read more, I'm planning on the next chapter being where he remember a time where he didn't speak, more organized than this, I promise.  
Review, I'm like a addict with them. **


	2. Silent Boy

**A/N.  
Finally a new chapter.  
Thank you to HerBlackWings85 for the review, I would have answered you but you have disabled private messages.  
WARNING: In a flash back kind of thing there will be rape…so for all you John Winchester haters, bring it on.**

Silent boy.

 _He lives in darkness,  
there is no progress  
He knows the demons that lie  
within him, he has no vision  
he has no sight,  
he hates perfection  
it wasn't right._

He didn't know what was happening. Daddy had given him Sammy and told him to run out of the house as fast as he could and to not look back. But why should he look back? Was there anything to look back at?

Mommy had hung from the ceiling, fire had been all around her and yet she didn't try to get away, even when both mommy and daddy had told him so many times that fire was bad and dangerous.

He never saw mommy again, well he did but he never told daddy about it, it would just make daddy mad and then he would start yelling and he didn't like when daddy started yelling cause it made Sammy cry.

Sometimes when daddy was gone and Sammy was sleeping soundly in the bed with quilts bundled against him so he didn't fall down the bed and got hurt, that would make daddy really, really mad.

No, when everything was bad and sad, he would turn to sit in a corner and drawn into himself, he didn't realize until later in life, how bad of a coping method it was, that one day, Sam might not be enough to bring him back.

As it was now, he didn't speak, it hurt him to do so, and hurt somewhere deep inside of him, a part of him longed for the contact he was now being denied and it was hurting so bad.

Sometimes he cried but it was always when daddy had gone out to hunt the bad stuff, he didn't dare to do it when he was there, it made him mad and he always smelled bad when he came back.

But even at his young age, he knew that it was bad that he didn't speak, people at the places where he got dumped every day said so. They had also told his daddy that maybe he ought to let a doctor look at him but they didn't get to do that before daddy moved them away.

It was good though, he didn't like doctors; they were always mean and poking and they made daddy mad.

He hadn't spoken for so long that he knew that even his father was worried about him; his five year old eyes saw more than people thought they saw but yet he still couldn't get himself to speak, it still hurt too much.

At night he spoke to Sammy, the little baby had grown a lot in a year and the young boy was proud of his work, beaming up at his father as if he said "Look at my work, look at what a good son I am, daddy!"

His daddy would shake his head and slam the door even harder on his way out, coming back so much later that his tummy had started hurting and Sammy wouldn't stop crying silently. The man would take on look at them before opening a cold can of something that he really didn't want to eat but he knew he had to if he didn't want to make daddy even more mad, even if he didn't know why he was mad over food.

Time went and he began to speak again, just small words though. Sammy became Sam and the now older kid asked about things all the time, why did they have to move all the time? Why was it that sometimes his older brother didn't speak to anyone for days in a row or why they couldn't have a normal life, if something could be questioned then Sam would do it.

When he asked now, Dean knew it was to anger their father and he didn't understand why was he so bend on making the older man mad? Was it that he didn't know that it was the older brother that he held dearer than anything, took the aftermath of the abuse? Or was it that he simply didn't care. Dean didn't want to know the answer to that question, he really didn't.

He hadn't told his brother the day he came back from school, silent, meek and with red rimmed eyes, what had happened, the younger teen would never know because when Dean had entered the apartment that afternoon after their 'father' had driven off to the nearest bar to drown out the disappointment that was his older son-Sam had just looked at him and shaken his head, muttering "Daddy's little soldier," under his breath. Dean had broken down in tears before he had even reached his room.

Their father, if he could still be called that after what he had done to his son; had met him in front of the school and demanded with a guff and for once, sober, voice, that he should get his ass inside the car and Dean, too afraid of what would happen if he didn't, get inside the car.

 _He frowned at his father's face when they drove past the shit apartment they had rented for the long hunt, and headed towards the forest._

" _Dad?" he asked quietly when the sign to the forest came into sight._

 _The older man merely grunted as he stopped the car and ordered "Get out and down on your hands and knees, you need to be taught a lesson, boy."_

 _Alarm rose in the teens mind and he hesitated to obey his father a second too long because in the next second the older man had ripped his door open and hauled him out of the car in such a forced way, that the teen could avoid falling on his side, still a little sore from the last kicking that he got._

" _NOW!" His father screamed at him right up in his face and he scrambled to obey despite the pain he suffered._

 _John grunted and nodded when he had done as he had been told and the man stepped closer, his eyes sweeping over him and Dean couldn't contain the full body shudder that went through him._

 _He closed his eyes and his breath hitched when he felt John buckle his belt up and he gasped when the pant was yanked down along with his underwear._

 _John grunted again and his voice filled the silence, "How many dicks have this ass taken, boy? I know where you go at night, out on the streets and taking it in the ass like the fag you really are. Mary would be disgusted if she had still been alive, you ungrateful little faggot….."_

 _John's words continued, as did his actions but at that point, Dean had checked out, he wasn't there, not really and he was happy that he wasn't._

 _The only thing that he really felt was the pain in his ass and from then on he tried to shut as much out as he could and the only sound he made was a aborted scream when he felt his 'father's' cum inside of him._

Dean Winchester didn't speak for another whole year.

 **A/N.  
hope it was a little better than the last chapter. Suggestions are welcome, if I don't get anything, next chapter will be when Dean had to kill Benny, a real tear breaker.**


	3. Benjamin Lafayette

**A/N.  
Nothing to say other than bring the tissues.  
NOTE: As I have yet to see S12 it will not feature in any of the small stories in this fic. In the flash back they have solved Amara and Cas didn't die and Lucifer is no longer a concern. (Did I make sense of it?)**

Chapter three  
Benjamin Lafayette.

" _I don't despise you for what you allowed  
to happen to me. I despise you because  
when I was released, you refused to be found  
and I needed you more than anything in my life.  
Not to mend my broken bones, Arjuro. I needed  
my brother to mend my broken spirit." __  
__―_ _Melina Marchetta_ _,_ _Froi of the Exiles_

His feelings for the vampire could be summed up in one word.

Brother.

In some twisted way Benny had been more of a brother than Sam ever had. It could have been that they never truly had felt tense around each other, not out of a fight. Or the fact that Benny's accent had lulled him to sleep an embarrassing amount of times when sleep had been hard to find and made promises about keeping an eye open in Purgatory, making sure that no monster would get to them.

What had started out as a means to an end, getting out of Purgatory, had ended in a friendship that had torn his heart and soul to pieces.

He wasn't supposed to kill his own brother for another brother. But he had and there didn't go a day without him regretting it, without wondering if it was so bad to think about the possibility of leaving the one brother in monster heaven and keeping the one he actually liked.

He had never claimed to be a saint.

In the days after he had killed his brother, Sam had nearly gone out of his mind trying to figure out what was wrong with him, he often wondered if it would have been so bad if he had taken Benny's offer before they had parted ways and just left the hunting world with him, left everything behind and never look back, he wasn't even ashamed when he felt a stab of longing every time he did.

Starting over.

When he had had the Mark of Cain he even looked for something that could send him back to Purgatory, because even if Cas said that he wasn't, he was a monster and monsters went to Purgatory when they died and he just wanted to see his friend again, just wanted to see if he was forgiven for killing him when he still couldn't forgive himself for it.  
Because even if Benny had told him that he didn't owe him, he just couldn't bear to let his friends sacrifice go unnoticed.

But the stupid angel had caught on to what he had been doing, all the late nights and frantic search for The Blade. The time he had spent bend over books so old that he had worried about them falling apart, with words so old that he had needed Crowley to translate most of it.

But his angel had caught on and one night when he and the king of hell had been bent over a book each, Cas had walked inside the library. Dean still had no real idea of how long the angel had been looking at them but he noticed when Crowley tensed and muttered a silent, "Think it's my cue to leave Squirrel." And with that he had disappeared, leaving the hunter to face the angry angel.

He had smiled and slowly turned around to face Cas, his eyes not reaching higher than the hollow of his angel's throat.

He remembered how he finally had looked the angel in the eyes; betrayal had been deep in the other's eyes as he tried to tell the angel, without using words, how much he needed his friend, his brother.

All the stupid angel had done was shaking his head gently, taken his hands and taken him to a abandoned area.

At first he hadn't understood why or where they or why the angel wasn't throwing his around like the last time he had made him mad or where they were, when he looked at the stone in front of his, fresh flowers on top of the green grass, he couldn't help on crashing to his knees, his body shaking with uncontrolled sobs as he read through bleary eyes.

 _Benjamin Lafayette_

 _1869-2012_

 _Beloved husband, friend and brother_

 _May your soul rest in eternal peace_

He cried so hard that it was starting to hurt, why did the people he loved always left, either willing or not, he was sick of it.

With teary eyes his gaze shifted to Cas.

"What do you mean?" he asked his briefly let his eyes shift to the last line before snapping back to the angel who was looking at him with a sad expression.

"He's not in Purgatory anymore Dean. Death likes you and he owed you, letting Benjamin return to The Empty and not Purgatory was ending that debt."

He knew he starred, he knew that his mouth was at least partly open due to shock but at that moment he didn't care cause his best friend, his brother was suffering anymore.

"Can I see him?" he asked even when he already knew the answer.

Cas shook his head and looked to the sky, "Not yet, soon but not yet," he answered in a too sad voice when he looked at the mark again, anger could be seen in his eyes before Dean was alone again.

Sam asked him countless of times over the years if he was alright, if there was anything that he needed before he went on supply run and every time he was close to say "Benny." But he didn't because he knew that his Sammy wouldn't understand the bond that he and the vampire shared, his angel was only just barely scratching the surface.

He remembered after the cure, after they had unleashed Hell on earth, again, solved it, only to do it all over again, that the thought of the vampire had crossed his mind again.

 _Cas had found him in to bunker, sitting on his bed with a machete in is hands, the blade resting carefully in the left hand and the handle in the other. He didn't look up when the angel leaned up against the door frame and looked at him with his blue eyes._

 _He laughed and shook his head, letting his fingers trail the blade, running over the blood that had long since turned dark purple and crusty._

" _You know Cas," he said and looked up, a sad frown marring his face before he continued, "twenty years ago I killed my brother-with this blade and this is the second and last time that I touch it," he looked up again, not realizing in the first place that he had had dropped in head again._

 _He let the tears well up in his eyes as he willed his lover to understand what he couldn't say with words. He saw the moment that Cas understood, horror in the fallen angel's eyes and he stepped fully inside the room, not yet saying anything and for that he was forever grateful._

" _I'm done Cas, I can't do this anymore." He sighed, "I'm tired. Bury me in Maine beside Benny and live on," he smiled softly, "The world needs you Cas."_

 _His angel didn't say anything, just nodded, more accepting than Dean had ever hoped for, and picked up the weapon, swinging it one last time and watched as his lover slid to the floor._

 _A single blue tear rolled down his right cheek._

" _True brothers are never blood-related.  
But born of the spirit." __  
__―_ _ **Lailah Gifty Akita**_

 **A/N.  
Did you cry cause I did.  
Review and feed the angst monster that I really am.**


End file.
